The Seven Sapphires of Mardi Gras (32 page)

“I think I’m beginning to like this, after all,” I confessed to Ian. There was a midsummer night’s eve kind of magic in the air. If I had been in a more relaxed state of mind, I might well have become caught up in the wild abandonment of the night. But a part of me was unable to join in with the merry confusion that surrounded us. Part of me was unable to forget Nicholas and the way he looked as I came down the stairs in Elica’s dress. What sorrow this first Mardi Gras after his wife’s tragic death must bring him.

Suddenly, the marching music stopped. The band now struck up a song which Ian claimed had been a tradition of the Mardi Gras since 1872.

Aware of my new interest in the Mardi Gras, he hastened to explain. “It all started with a love story. While the Russian Grand Duke Alexis Alexandrovich Romanoff was visiting America, he fell for the charms of an American actress he had seen in a play in New York. They arranged to meet again in New Orleans during the Mardi Gras where she was performing at the Opera House. During the play, the young actress made eyes at him as she sang the song, ‘If Ever I Cease to Love.’ The next day, when the Grand Duke
attended the parade, he discovered that the public had become enthralled by the budding romance, and ‘their
’
song was being played everywhere. Since then, versions of the song have been played at every Mardi Gras. It is the official royal song of Carnival, which is played just before the appearance of King Rex.” Amused, I listened to the unusual refrain:

“If ever I cease to love.

If ever I cease to love,

May the Grand Duke Alexis

Ride a buffalo in Texas,

If ever I cease to love.”

A chant arose on all sides of us. “Long live Rex. Long live the king!” The chant was followed by a sudden stillness.

Following the procession of knights was a huge, gilded float. As it drew nearer I could see, through a bed of pink roses and white carnations, the glittering thrones of the king and queen.

“Do you know who they are?” I asked, as we craned our necks to get a good look at the local royalty.

Ian shook his head. “Their identities will not be revealed until midnight, when everyone is obliged to unmask.”

The dark-bearded king, looking quite regal in his white and golden robes, waved proudly to the cheering crowd. By his side, the queen, in shiny silver dress and white mink robe sat graciously upon the throne that Christine had told me Nathan had helped to build. I was enchanted by the beautiful sight. For the first time since that terrible incident upon the stairs, I felt the tension begin to ease away from me.

And then something else caught my eye. In the gap between the two floats, I caught a glimpse of the masked revelers on the other side of the street. And in that sea of faces, faces that suddenly seemed grotesque and menacing, one stood out, even among the hideous devils, demons, and fantasy creatures that surrounded it.

The choked cry died in my throat as I stared at the death-like visage with its hollow, cadaverous cheeks, huge, empty-seeming eye sockets, the terribly grinning blood-red mouth. I recoiled from the sight in sheer horror. Someone was wearing the voodoo mask!

“Ian!” I cried, but the sound of my voice was drowned out by the cheering of the crowd as the king and queen rattled by upon their lovely float. The bed of roses and carnations completely obstructed my view.

“Fantastic, isn’t it?” Ian shouted above the cheering voices. I shivered, realizing that he had mistaken my cry of horror for one of excitement.

When the commotion had finally died down, and I was free to look again, the ghastly face was gone. It had been buried by the throng of masqueraders, leaving me to wonder if my eyes or my imagination might have been playing tricks on me. Was it possible that I only thought I had recognized the voodoo mask in this veritable breeding ground of witches, goblins, and monsters that surrounded us?

I tried to persuade myself that it had only been my imagination. With a queasy feeling, I stood remembering the empty peg in Edward’s room, a constant reminder that the voodoo mask was still missing. Was someone here at the masquerade tonight wearing the evil mask? I must find out!

“Now the actual parade will begin!” Ian said. With Rex’s procession at an end, the gaudily decorated floats that waited upon the side streets swayed into motion. I heard the excited cries of the children as the dragon with its bobbing head lurched slowly toward us. A princess in glittering dress showered candy and sparkly carnival baubles into the crowd from the high tower of the silver castle. Ian raised his arm to catch a strand of brightly colored beads.

“For you,
ma chère,”
Ian
moved to drape the shining strand about my neck, his hands lingering upon my throat as he straightened the glimmering beads. He stepped back, viewing his addition to my costume with admiration. “Beautiful!”

I glanced down. The bright colors gave my long, flowing
dress an even more festive appearance. “The beads add just the right touch” I conceded.

“And what do you think of the Mardi Gras now?” he asked anxiously. “Are you having a good time?”

“Yes,” I replied, glad for the sequined amber mask that concealed at least part of my expression from Ian. I knew that he was doing his best to entertain me. Though I tried to share his enthusiasm for this magical, fairy-tale night, I knew that the uneasiness was here to stay. I kept thinking about that brief glimpse of the sinister face in the crowd on the other side of the street. A cold shiver ran up and down my spine. Who was wearing the voodoo mask?

The same person who had struck me down at the old house might be here, watching my every move. Icy blood flowed through my veins, chilling me to the bone. Once again, the carnival atmosphere seemed to me grotesque, artificial, and vaguely threatening.

Another float rolled by. I gasped at the sight of a fair-haired Marie Antoinette on her way to the guillotine, flashing white teeth and laughing. Even the parade seemed to be taking on a sinister quality. Unaffected by the horror of the scene, children scrambled for the beads, whistles, and toy doubloons she tossed into the streets. Then, with a final wave of farewell, she knelt before the wicked guillotine and off rolled her head!

Feeling slightly sickened, I watched the executioner hold the artificial head up to the crowd. Then he furtively slipped it away in its basket so that the scene could be re-enacted.

I stole a glance at Ian, who was watching the parade with fascination. Should I confide in him? No, I decided. After the conversation I had heard between him and Lydia in the garden, I would be a fool to trust him.

A scene from
Romeo and Juliet
clattered by upon rickety wheels. A tawdry Juliet leaned upon her famous balcony, throwing kisses and trinkets into the crowd while Romeo strummed a guitar.

And then I saw it again. Now, at the edge of the crowd,
near a cluster of dark cypress, the moonlight glanced off the stiff edges of a face as pale as death.

Had it been the voodoo mask? I still could not be sure. If only I could get closer But there was no way to cross the street until the parade had run its course. Impatiently, I waited, trying to keep in sight the place where the figure had been.

More floats sailed by, once again obstructing my vision. Indians, wild men, native dancers, a cardboard ship of ominous-looking buccaneers riding a restless, painted sea. Then, at last, the band that had been playing such lively music became visible, bringing up the rear. The parade ended with a final uproar of cheering and song. During the ensuing confusion, I found my chance to slip away from Ian’s side and lose myself in the crowd.

I pressed on through the throng of masked people, gradually making my way across the crowded, cobbled street. When I reached the spot where I thought I had spied the voodoo mask, the figure was gone. I looked about, bewildered. It was as if he had vanished into thin air.

Anxiously, I looked back across the street where I had left Ian, but he was nowhere in sight. For a moment, a feeling of panic swept over me. These people—where had they all come from? I was alone in this bizarre crowd of masqueraders. Why, I might never find Ian again!

I stood for a moment, trying to get my bearings. Most of the crowd was now moving in the opposite direction, toward the waterfront. In the shelter of the cypress trees near the bayou, the gumbo pots for the feast were waiting. If I followed along in that general direction, surely I would either encounter Ian or one of the others from the house.

Uneasily, I pushed my way through the mass of masked, costumed people. Swept along by the crowd, I moved toward the spot where the blackened pots of gumbo simmered and sputtered over open bonfires. The clouds, which had been threatening rain all evening, scattered a fine spray of raindrops, making the fire smoke. I spotted Cassa tending to one of the fires. With her long, ragged skirts and unruly
white braids, she seemed as much in costume as the masqueraders who passed her by.

I stepped toward her, glad to have discovered a familiar face. “Good evening, Cassa.”

The old woman made no reply. An unsettling sensation gripped me as she peered at me closely, as if she weren’t exactly certain who I was. Then, with a nervous laugh, I remembered my disguise. “It’s me! Louise!”

A smile of recognition crossed her face as she said something in that odd half-French of hers that I never could quite understand.

“Have you seen Ian?” I asked.

She continued to watch me, her eyes still slightly blank. Either she did not understand my question or she did not know Ian. I realized that it was possible that she had never met him.

“Edward? Lydia? Have you seen them?”

This time she shook her head.
“Non.”

There was a heavy, sinking feeling in my heart. “Mrs. Lividais?” I tried in frustration.

Her eyes suddenly brightened. “Ya. M’dame Lividais.” She pointed to a place not far away where women were setting out food for the feast.

“Thank you, Cassa.” I began to move away in the direction she had indicated.

I had only gone a few steps when the strange feeling that I was being watched made me turn around slowly. I glanced back at Cassa, but she was once again bent over her gumbo pot. And then I saw him. At the edge of the cypress grove a tall, cadaverous figure stood against the moonlight.

In startled horror, my eyes locked with the deep, piercing eyes behind the voodoo mask! I felt my heart pound rapidly against my throat as I forced my gaze away. Then, steeling my courage, I looked again.

Sheer relief made my body feel suddenly weightless. I had been mistaken, after all. The stranger was not wearing the voodoo mask, but only a crude imitation. The mask had a rough, unfinished quality, as if it had been hastily created
for this particular occasion. Upon closer scrutiny, I could see that the features were slightly different. The nose was too knotted, the mouth had been cut into a grimacing line instead of that malevolent, blood-red smile.

I waited spellbound as the gaunt man in his frightening replica of the voodoo mask moved toward me. As he stepped out of the darkness, the flowing African robes that draped his tall form suddenly gave away his identity. It was Brule!

The paleness of the mask made his eyes seem even deeper, more hypnotizing as they stared into mine. “Louise Moreland.” His voice, with its soft, almost singsong accent, sent sharp little chills racing through me. Even with my disguise, he had recognized me. I found myself standing frozen, like a small creature entranced by the mighty cobra as he came nearer and nearer. Those piercing eyes never left my own.

“Be careful tonight, Louise Moreland. I feel danger. Danger all around you.”

“What—what are you talking about?” I demanded. My mouth felt parched and dry. I tried not to let his words frighten me, but I could not help remembering that he had been right the last time,

“Tonight is the Mardi Gras. Elica will return.”

I stood regarding him, awestricken. Brule—Elica’s friend, maybe even her lover. In horror, I stared into those deep, fathomless eyes behind the rough imitation of the voodoo mask. Eyes that glittered like cut glass in the moonlight. And I knew beyond any doubt that he was not just trying to frighten me. He believed what he was saying. Every word!

Cautiously, I backed away from him. Those disturbing eyes never left my face as I turned and fled away into the safety of the crowd. Now, desperately, I searched for Ian. But the bright yellow crown and flowing purple robe were still nowhere in sight.

Again I followed the masqueraders to where long cypress tables creaked with freshly baked breads, pastries, and candy confections. Then, with a sigh of relief, I spotted
Mrs. Lividais in all her Gypsy splendor, pouring out cider to the crowd.

“Mrs. Lividais! Have you seen Ian?” I demanded as I came toward her.

“Why, yes. He’s been looking all over for you. Worried sick, he is.”

“Where can I find him?”

“Over there. Near the water’s edge.”

Suddenly, I caught a flash of yellow, then a glimpse of purple. Only a few feet away, Ian stood, scanning the crowd, watching for me.

“Ian!” I called, waving my hand in the air.

He turned at the sound of my voice. The yellow crown shifted to a precarious angle as he rushed toward me. He was, at that moment, a most welcome sight.

Chapter Twenty-three

“I thought I’d lost you.” Ian came toward me, taking my arm in his. “There was such confusion after the parade, it’s no wonder that we were separated.”

I nodded, glad that he demanded no explanation for my sudden disappearance.

“I hope you weren’t frightened.”

“Of course not,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. “When I saw that you were no longer by my side, I just followed the crowd.”

“That’s what I guessed you’d do, so I waited for you here. I must confess that I was getting a bit worried. This is really no place for a young woman to be wandering about alone.” Remembering my unsettling encounter with Brule, I stole a glance behind us. He was nowhere in sight.